


I Like You (Say It Back)

by gentlewhumping



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Reconciliation, Recovery, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Reflection, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Sweet Tooth (Cavetown), Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Harry Potter, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlewhumping/pseuds/gentlewhumping
Summary: “I like you” wasn’t enough, but it was all he could offer. Harry only smiled and replied “I like you, too,” and to Draco’s ears it sounded an awful lot like ‘love.’Songfic set to 'Sweet Tooth' by Cavetown
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	I Like You (Say It Back)

_Feeling sick of myself  
Think I'll try to be someone else  
Can't be hard to paint a person  
In my head create a version  
The parallel_

After the war, after the trials, Draco lost himself. He wasn’t entirely sure he had ever had himself to begin with, if he were to be honest. He didn’t know who he was now, without his path laid out in front of him, carefully constructed by his father, hell, his whole family. He wasn’t convinced he even could do anything else, be anything else. He liked to imagine who he would’ve been, if he had been given that free will. Draco liked to think he would’ve never taken the dark mark. He liked to think that maybe he would’ve been a healer, or a chef. He imagined being a muggle, how much more simplistic life would have surely been. He wondered if, in any of these other imaginary lives, he would have still met Harry.

_Pull my head out the sand  
Try as hard as I can_

Getting lost in fantasy can only last so long, Draco knew. Stepping foot outside his home ensured his return to the real world. Reporters, crowding for statements from the boy who was bred to be a death eater. Old classmates, now simply other adults, pausing to stare and whisper as he walked past. The occasional business owner, turning him away because of the brand on his arm, his notable family name. The one occasion he had made the poor decision to visit his father in Azkaban. The time he had been beaten by three mud- three muggle born wizards. Yes, reality was impossible to escape for long.

_Guess I must be satisfactory  
You said you love me exactly the way I am  
And you know I find it hard to understand_

Draco cried, some nights, when it all became too much, too heavy, too close. Harry would hold him, whispering reassurances. Draco, in a particularly troublesome fit, had attempted to burn his own arm, sear away that ugly mark on his skin forever. Harry stopped him, and he kissed him on his mark, and Draco had positively wailed. Harry shouldn’t, couldn’t possibly forgive him. But yet he did and does. They went to a muggle tattoo parlor, and had it covered up, transformed into something else. The scar tissue was hidden under winding vines, various blooms, his entire forearm wrapped in delicate foliage, harsh thorns nestled around paper thin petals. Getting the tattoo hurt, but it was almost pleasant in comparison to how it felt to be marked by The Dar- by Voldemort.

_Never had a cavity  
Never had nobody as sweet as you  
Smooth around the edges, good as new  
Gently into it and every rendezvous  
Got myself a brand new pain_

Harry hadn’t come out of the war unscathed. But he had come out of it. With the support of his friends and family, he had recovered, and now he passed that good grace to Draco, who had none of that. Before the war, he was privileged, and now after, he lost it all. Harry comforted him in that, though Draco felt he had no right to be. Before the war, he had been snide, cruel even, and now after, he had lost his voice. Harry guided him back to his words, encouraging Draco’s snarky sense of humor with laughs and carefully-delicate comebacks. Draco felt that he didn’t deserve this kindness, this care, this devotion. He couldn’t recall the last time he had received anything remotely like this affection. Maybe because there was nothing to recall. Their meet-ups became more frequent, and their conversations started drifting to other topics, and when Harry kissed him, he didn’t run away (though he thought he ought to).

_It's like you do  
I know every line and curve of your tattoos  
A sweet tooth for you  
I'm wide awake  
The sugar went straight to my brain_

Harry got a few tattoos the same day Draco got his. Draco’s skin was pale and sheet-like, the tattoo the only bit of interest. Harry’s body, however, was like a canvas of his life. His tattoos, dotting his arms and hands, seeming almost sporadic in placement. His freckles, gently peppering his shoulders and back. His scars, some knotted and others smooth, all stories held on bated breaths and nervous memories. Some nights, when the moon was high and bright, Draco would simply lay awake, studying Harry’s intricacies. He didn’t want to forget any little thing. He felt drunk on Harry, intoxicated by his every feature. Draco would never comprehend how they got here. Harry had hated him so much when they were younger, and now...

_Feel like a kid, I double tap  
My chest with my fist  
I like you  
Say it back  
Say it back_

Draco had a hard time with the word ‘love.’ Love was something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. He loved his mother, he knew that. He was pretty certain he loved his owl, when he was alive. He thought he loved his father, but maybe he didn’t, maybe he never had. Draco couldn’t be sure. He was sure about Harry; he was sure he wanted to stay by his side, he was sure he’d never feel so strongly toward anyone else, he was sure he would break down if anything ever happened to him. But he still couldn’t form the word. “I like you” wasn’t enough, but it was all he could offer. Harry only smiled and replied “I like you, too,” and to Draco’s ears it sounded an awful lot like ‘love.’

_Sweet tooth for you  
My dreamin' space  
It's filled with scribbles, tore the page  
Decipher them with coloured paint  
Repair the stitches in my face_

Draco tried to become a healer. He wanted so badly to be of help, to fix things, to act as a force of good, as though to spit in the face of his own history. But healers have to be able to face ugly, gruesome realities. They have to hear people cry out in pain, see flesh torn from bone, smell chemicals and blood and vomit, feel the heavy anxieties of their patients and their families. Draco wasn’t able to bear that weight, the flashbacks too much to bear. He saw a woman scream in pain as her broken leg was reset, and all he could see was Nagini, snapping a woman in her vice-like grip before downing her mangled corpse. Harry helped him try to find a different career path. He liked working around plants, he found. He took a job opportunity in a greenhouse, and it was nice. He brought plants home, sometimes, and soon their house was filled with delicate, quiet life, a warm addition that helped Draco feel less tense. Plants tended to die in Th- Voldemort’s presence. Here, they thrived.

_Sweet tooth for you  
My heart, you do  
I'll see you in my garden soon  
Beneath the skin, it's cardiac  
A safety pin_

Time passed, and open wounds turned to old scars. Draco could sleep through the night. Harry could surprise him, grabbing him about the waist from behind, and Draco wouldn’t jump in fear anymore. Harry healed, too. Draco thought that interesting, as Harry had already healed so much before him, but Harry insisted that Draco helped him. Draco started flying again, and he found it liberating. He and Harry would sometimes chase after a snitch. Not an official quidditch snitch, but instead a slightly larger, slower one, meant for beginners, or else they’d end up flying for ages, forgetting the time. Draco found joy in life again.

_I like you  
Say it back_

It was a long time. Too long, Draco knew. But he hadn’t been ready before, and Harry never pushed him. Maybe he should have. Maybe Draco would’ve folded. Maybe it didn’t matter, really. ‘I like you’ was their ‘I love you,’ and maybe that was enough for Harry. But Draco knew it wasn’t everything. He wanted to tell Harry, but he feared that the moment the word left his mouth, everything would fade away. It was a long time. Too long, Draco knew. But one day, one day it was time. One day, he was ready. And when Harry said ‘I like you,’ into his kisses, Draco said it back. “I love you, too.”


End file.
